


Ghosts That We Knew

by xanemarths



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanemarths/pseuds/xanemarths
Summary: She doesn't dare question it when he comes home, because he's alive, and he's here, and she won't dare question a miracle - except...





	Ghosts That We Knew

**Author's Note:**

> I Love LevinFury and I Die.
> 
> Special thanks to a certain two friends of mine who talk to me about Levinfury and dragondad; our talks no doubt influenced much of this fic.

It is a miracle when he comes home, battered and barely able to speak but _alive_ , and she all but catches him in her arms and swings him ‘round on seeing him again. It's just as he said, just as he promised - he would come home, and he did come home, and he's back in her arms and she doesn't dare question a miracle.

He's not the same, sure, but war changes people. She supposes that the light in his eyes finally faded from whatever horrors he'd endured in Barhara, on his way back. It doesn't account for the height he's gained, though (she has fond memories of resting her chin on the top of his head, and it's odd to no longer be able to do so), nor does it account for the strange new habits he's gained. The sharpness of his eyes (far keener than any eyes should be), the subtle movements of his head when he's focusing, the sudden dropping of that faked accent he'd kept for so many years, his suddenly serious interest in music…

Even with the children, it's like she has to teach him all over again how to care for them. In particular, she notes the time he asks, a genuine question in his voice, why it's so necessary to hold their baby son so much; when she tells him that a child can die without enough physical affection, he holds onto the boy for a week, and all her doubts are soothed, if only for a moment.

But there's a distance between them, like a wall. For all the affection he gives her, it is distant, somehow, as though he's holding back. Surely he could not have been changed so much by the war that he'd close off from her! He was the sort of man who needed people, who clung to them for comfort when he was down. Surely the war would have made him cling tighter, not make him hold back like this!

She does not dare question these changes, though. Who is this man, bearing his name, and his tome, and his scarf, if he is not her husband? And, if he is not the man she'd loved so dearly, then what happened to him?

(Sometimes, in the night, she almost swears she can feel a familiar pair of phantom arms wrap around her, holding tight as they can, as though afraid to let go. Sometimes, on the wind, she hears his voice calling her name. Sometimes, she feels, and listens, and wonders.)

She knows for certain when he leaves. The man she loved would never have left her side again; he had long grown past that, and she can't imagine how he could say he loved her because she'd never leave him, and then do the same to her. Though she doesn't see him leave, herself, they catch eyes the day before he does, and she simply _knows_.

When she wakes up in the morning to an empty bed, she is not surprised.

Still, she finds, she misses him, whoever he was, if only for the company, if only for a second pair of hands to raise their children with. The ghost of the man she loved is gone, too, perhaps still attached to the shell of his body. This, especially, she knows she will miss.

Something tells her that she shouldn't tell her children the truth of what she knows. Even as she grows ill, and her son declares that he's going to find his father and bring him home to cure her, she doesn't dare tell him the truth. If the man can save her, so be it, but…

The man that she loved is dead, this much she knows for certain; perhaps when she is dead, too, she can see him again, if only for a single, bright moment.

**Author's Note:**

> my headcanon height for Levin is 5'4 and my headcanon for Fury is 6'; Holsety!Levin is 5'9/10. I know that's not their "Canon Heights" or whatever but... short Levin... please


End file.
